– Damien –
My entire body felt like it had been steamrolled. Every muscle aches, and all I wanted was to curl back into the warm comfort of my girlfriend's arms. Snuggling with Laura always made everything better—aches, exhaustion, bad dreams. But the moment I cracked my eyes open, I saw someone sitting on the sofa.
A man.
I blinked blearily. Was I still dreaming? Nope. He stood, eyes cold, and pulled out a knife.
I sat up slowly, suppressing a groan. And then I recognized him. Logan.
I let out a dry chuckle, rubbing a hand over my face. "Logan," I laughed. "I'm naked right now. Can you at least help me put something on before you kill me?"
He laughed—sharp, sarcastic, empty.
Stretching, I let out a yawn and casually flexed my sore arms. "I get it. You hated Blackwell. Fine. You can kill me—just not here, alright? And not while I'm naked. That's just rude."
He glared at me, the knife still in hand, then turned and walked out the door without another word.
